


The Song of the Sidera

by SpartaLazor



Series: The Legend of the Mid-World Sidera Series [2]
Category: Halo, Red vs. Blue, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartaLazor/pseuds/SpartaLazor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley, Tucker, and Luke continue the losing fight against Giovanni, who threatens to take over the Sidera, the Prime World, and every last world that he can get to from it.</p><p>The battle of Guirel draws nearer, and Giovanni has six of the eight needed keystones to gain access to the Prime World, giving our heroes a lot to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Guirel Outskirts**  
 **September 8**

****  
_****_

** _The City of Guirel_   
**

 

They finally stood at the top of the mountain. Techniacally, all the mountain range was was a giant sand dune. Here and there, large rocks were poking out of the grains. The range encircled the massive city in front of our heroes.

"That city is fucking huge!" Tucker exclaimed, Battle Rifle falling to his side. "Does it even end?"

The city of Guirel was larger than any city Ashley had ever seen. New Alexandria on Reach, New York on Earth, and countless others. It stretched farther than anyone could see, and the towers stood taller than any other building ever known to man.

Each black obsidian tower stood roughly 27 miles tall, reach heights once though impossible. In the middle of the city was a tower nearly twice as tall as the others, with a larger round part at the top.

"That's been dubbed the Siderian Control Tower," Miranda said, pointing to the tower. "It's the largest tower in the known wasteland."

"Known wasteland?" Ashley asked, with a slight hint of amusement. "Haven't they discovered the whole thing yet?"

Miranda smacked the Spartan's armored arm. "Hey, don't make fun of this place. I happen to live here, you know. But, no. Several exploration teams have been sent out to find the end, or to loop around, but nothing yet."

Ashley shrugged. "There's probably no end to this place. It goes on and on and on. Well then, shall we head into the city of Guirel?"

"Let's shall."

The trek down the mountain was far more exciting that the whole rest of the trip from Siger. Mainly because the city was in sight, and they could actually see large televison screens from the distance they were. Technology and civilization. The two thing things that the whole group missed the most.

"Last one there buys me a hooker!" Tucker shouted, breaking out into a full run. He kicked up sand as he ran, leaving large holes in the dry desert sand.

"You are such a pervert!" Luke called as he chased him, and soon passed the non-Spartan. He ran through the sand with ease, since he had the most expertise.

Miranda shook her head. "Boys will be boys," she commented, popping her knuckles. "I don't think they're taking that seriously."

"Well, on the bright side," Ashley said, quickening her pace to put herself in front of Miranda. "You can't outrun a Spartan."

"You bitch," Miranda joked. "It's not like I actually have any money anyway."

Tucker and Luke were waiting for the two of them at the giant metal gate. Guards stood all around, each one wearing what appeared to be a cross of ODST armor and the same armor that Giovanni's troops wore.

There were guns aplenty at the wall, and Ashley even saw some MACs on the wall, as well as some Guass turrents and some Missle Launchers. Snipers stood alongside the soldiers manning the turrents, with giant rifles in a similar style to that of the SRS, only with twice the scope length, and three times the barrel length. They were massive.

"We'd like to get in, please," Tucker said, as the ladies caught up. "We really need to see some of this technology. I need porn!"

"I bet you do," one guard commented. "Take off your helmet," he ordered, and then looked over at Ashley. "You too."

"Um...sure," Ashley replied, removing her helmet and letting her red hair fall down over her shoulders. "Why?"

"Only humans can enter Guirel," the guard told her. "Strict rules of President Keyes."

"Keyes?" Miranda echoed. "Jacob Keyes?"

The guard nodded. "You know him?"

"I should. He's my father."

"Really now?" the guard asked. "He's never made any mention of any daughter, let alone a wife."

Miranda shrugged. "I hated her. I never cared for her at all."

"Gee, that's cold," Tucker said, returning his teal helmet to his head. "Can we go in now?"

The guard gestured to an opening in the thick metal wall. "Go ahead, knock youselves out. Spend all your money here, so I can get a pay raise."

"Yeah, don't count on that," Ashley told the guard, as she tucked her helmet under her arm. "Shall we enter this giant city?"

"Let's shall."

The city was far more impressive on the inside than on the outside. The streets were clogged with cars of all shapes and sizes, and humans of all kinds walked along the streets, heading to work, or where ever.

"Okay, so with all these people, how are we going to find Keyes?" Luke asked. "We have to deliver a message to him."

Ashley pointed over at another guard standing on the corner of a crowded street, keeping the peace with a heavy machine gun that she had never seen before, yet it was emblemed with the UNSC logo on it. "They said that Keyes was the President, so that guy's bound to know."

"I'll ask," Luke said, and then ran over to the man. Ashley couldn't hear them talking, but the man pointed up at the tallest tower in the city. Luke nodded and ran back, pushing his way through the thick crowd. "That tower," he told them, pointing at the bigass tower.

"Dear God, I hope they have an elevator," Tucker exclaimed, taking in the pure hugeness of that tower. "If only my tower was that big."

The whole group groaned, save for the teal pervert.

"Come on, let's get this over with."

"Welcome to the Siderian Control Tower," the cheery secretary greeted as the group entered the tower. "Do you have an appointment with someone?" The lobby of the building was rather luxurious, with expenisive looking chairs, desks, and computers. The room was easily manned by about fifty people, and ten guards kept the area secure.

The carpet was a nice royal blue, and the walls were glass, exposing the scene outside. There was an elevator right in the middle of the room, along with one in each corner of the tower's lobby.

"Well," Ashley rubbed the back of her neck, letting loose a small rain of sand that had been trapped in the joints of her armor. "Not really, but we need to see the President."

The secretary's disgust was obvious as she saw the sand land on the dark blue carpet. "Well, I'm afraid that that's going to be just about impossible," she said, turning back to her computer. The screen was less than a third of an inch thick, and had a touch screen. "The President's a very busy man, and he doesn't have time for savages like you."

"What?" Ashley asked, looking around at her group. "Do we look like savages?" In truth, their clothes and armor were sand-blasted from the intense sandstorms, their hair was ragged, and their faces dirty.

"Yes. Now leave before I call security," the secretery snapped, glaring up at them.

"Call that some people skills," Tucker drily commented.

Ashley shot him a look, and walked over to the secretary, leaning over her. "We have an important message for the President, and if you don't let us see him, then, it's going to get messy."

The secretary looked down at the pile of sand that they had tracked in. "It already has."

"Great, a smartass," Ashley groaned. Suddenly, her hand lashed out and caught the poor woman by her neck, and lifted her into the air. "If you don't let us up, I will slam you into the ground right now and break every damned bone in your body, bitch."

Tucker let out a low whistle. "That escalated quickly."

"Come on," Miranda whispered, grabbing both Luke and Tucker by their forearms. "Let's go while there's a distraction."

"The hells going on in here?" a guard shouted, raising his rifle. "I'll give you to the count of three to put Miss Gryffon down, or I'll open fire!"

Ashley looked over at him, and shook her head, keeping the secretary held high. "Trust me, you won't shoot at me. Spartans never die, you know."

"Don't threaten me!" the guard yelled, and his comerades flocked to his side. All of them were completely oblivous to the three people sneaking behind them to the elevator. "Now put her down!"

Seeing Miranda give her the thumbs up from the elevator as the metal doors slid shut, Ashley nodded. "Fine." She threw the screaming secretary to the ground, but not hard enough to leave any serious injuries. The minute she touched the ground, automatic fire filled the room.

The Spartan dove to the side to avoid the intial salvo, and ran into the glass window to escape. The glass shattered, and Ashley took off running into the streets. The guards wouln't be stupid enough to fire into a group of civilians.

One civilan was struck with a bullet, and went down clutching his throat. Other civilians scattered and screamed as they fled the scene, and the guards kept unloading rounds at Ashley.

Okay, maybe they would fire into a group of unarmed people.

She heard the bullets whiz by her, and a few hitting her shields as she made a run for it. Ashley had no idea where she was going, all she knew was that she had to distract the guards for a little while so Tucker, Luke, and Miranda could get their buisness with the President done.

Now somewhere in a residential sector, Ashley was beginning to run out of breath. A Spartan she may be, but she already had gone roughly over two-hundred meters. The guards had returned to the tower, and now she was being chased by the military.

A Warthog was flying down the road at her, the machine gun on the back blazing despite the heavily populated area.

Ashley had to think fast, and decided to go to the one place the even the most cold-hearted person would hesistated to open fire.

The playgound was full of children, laughing and playing and having a good time. They hadn't heard the gunshots yet, and were completely oblivous to what was about to happen.

The Warthog skidded to a stop just outside the playground, with top lights flashing red and blue just like the police cars in the movies. The machine gun was trained on her, and she wasn't planning on leaving the area anytime soon.

Two more Warthogs pulled up, effectively pinning her into the small area. By now, parents were gathering up their children and running back to their homes. With them leaving, Ashley's plan was falling apart quickly.

Not even half of the children had been gathered up when the Warthogs opened fire. Ashley ducked down and ran at one Warthog, reaching for her shotgun. She was avoiding most of the fire, and jumped when she reached the vehicle, sailing over the hood while unleashing a shot at the gunner. He flew back, screaming as his body was turned into a bloody mess.

Ashley hit the ground running, and pumped her shotgun to prepare for the next shot. The bullets flew past her, with every third one seeming to hit her. With three Warthogs all after her, she didn't stand much of a chance.

That's when she saw the helicopter. It was flying in low, with a green spot on the front glowing. It released the plasma burst, and the overcharge completely drained her shields.

"Shit!" she cursed, struggling to keep her pace. Then she heard a triple-round burst from a Battle Rifle, and felt intense pain in her arm. She cried out in pain, and knew that she had been shot. Having no other way to go, she was forced to run down an alley way.

But it was a dead end. "Fucking hell!" she cursed again. Then she saw the manhole that was being pushed open by a white armored arm.

"In here, quick!" the person ordered, pushing the cover aside to let the Spartan. Ashley immediantly dropped into the wide hole, and used her good hand to pull the cover back over the hole. She was safe, for now.

* * *

 

"What do you mean she got away?" President Jacob Keyes asked, listening to the radio chatter. "How can an orange Spartan just dissappear in this city? There's nowhere that she'd even seem in place."

"We don't know sir," the voice replied over the radio. "She just vanished, but we managed to hit her in the arm. She'll leave a trail of blood."

"Well then, find it and follow it," Keyes ordered, "I want her found."

"Yes sir!"

Keyes sighed and cut the radio off, and turned back to his window. He stared out at the city around him. He had built it up himself. Everything had been done through him. He was the founder of Guirel, and the ultimate power in the largest city in the damned Sidera. Only humans were allowed to enter, due to his aversions to aliens after his encounters with the Covenant.

It had started to rain, thanks to the artifical clouds that had been made in the weather factories all around Guirel. He had overcome many of the challenges that humanity had faced, and had brought his city to a state that could rival the Forerunners.

The elevator door on the far side of his office dinged, and he whirled around. He wasn't expecting any guests. A teal Spartan walked into the office, flanked by a teen toting a ruined robot in a bag over his shoulder.

"Who are you?" Keyes asked, motioning to his guards in his office. "Why are you in here?"

"We have a messege from a Promethean Guardian dude thing," the teal Spartan said. "He sent us all the way from some small town just to tell it to you."

"Joe sent you all the way here from Sigers?" Keyes nodded. "Then it must be important. Please do tell."

"Um...it was 493," the teen said, scratching his head. "I don't know what it means though."

"493? Dammit!" Keyes slammed his fist onto his desk. He sighed, and shook his head. "Well, thanks for bringing it in," he said. "Chief, can you get them some rooms to stay in for now, so they can clean up and get some rest."

"Affirmative sir," one of the guards said, shouldering her rifle and motioning to the two of them. "This way please."

Keyes watched them go. Code 493 meant that they were going to get hit hard. By a force stronger than anything they've ever faced. One that could tear his city to pieces. "It's that damned Giovanni," he muttered. "I never should have helped him."

He fell back into his chair, and swivled around to his desk. He saw a third figure standing near the elevator, looking extremely nervous. It was...

"Miranda?" Keyes asked, taking in the sight of his daughter.

"Dad," she said walked slowly toward him.

"Leave us," he ordered to the guards, who shrugged and left. "What are you doing here?"

Miranda shrugged. "I died, just like everyone else," she told him. "And now I'm here."

Keyes gave the first smile that he had in what felt like centuries. "It's about time I saw a friendly face," he said. "It's nice to see you again."

Miranda shrugged. "I know. It's been a while, dad. There's so much you need to know."

"Can you start with what happened after the Halo incident?"

"That's where I planned to start."

　


	2. Rookie

My eyes snapped open. I was on my back staring up at the ceiling. I didn't know where I was, or how I got here. The more I stared at the alien style of the dull gray metal roof, the more the design seemed familiar.

Forerunner. That was it. It looked like the bases in Ragnarok, in Halo 4. Or Valhalla, as I still liked to call it. Then, it all slowly came back to me. Running from home, meeting Kara, and then getting sent to a different world.

I sat up, looking around. This wasn't the Sidera. At least, I think I wasn't. I knew for fact that I was in one of the Valhalla bases.

"It's about time you woke up, rookie," said a voice. A moment later, a armored Spartan walked in the room. "You've been out for a while."

"Church?" I half-asked, half-stated. It had worked. Somehow, I had left the Prime World. I was in the Gateway. I think I knew how to get to the Sidera from here, but that would have to wait.

"You know who I am?" Church asked. "How?"

"I've seen Red vs Blue."

Church was silent for a second. "Okay, I have no idea what the fuck that is, but I don't want to know. Just get up and get in your armor so you can start your training."  
"Training? What am I training for?"

"We needed to even out the teams," Church said, walking over to a crate. "So, as of now," he tore the lid off, "you're offically on the Blue Team."  
"What?"

Accept it, the deity in my head told me. The training you will learn here will prove invaluble to you in the Sidera.  
Church held up a blue Halo 3 Recon helmet. "This is your armor. It should fit. We had to have it specially sized down for you. Not only that, command sent you the good shit."

I couldn't believe it. Here I was, at the Gateway, and I was preparing to get training from people who technically didn't exsist, before I entered the world that I myself created. It was like something out of a supernatural-thriller novel, or something like that.

I took the helmet, and slipped it over my head. For some reason, it seem weightless. I had heard that Spartan helmets easily weighed about twenty pounds, but this was a light as a feather.

The HUD was offline, since I hadn't put on the rest of my armor. I removed the helmet and threw it onto the bed. I looked down into the crate, and saw my exact set of Halo 3 armor. Blue CQC chest and Gray Hayabusa shoulders.

"I'd give you Tucker's room to stay in, but for your own protection, it's best you stay outta there," Church advised. "Even I almost go blind when I walk in there."  
"So, can I go for a walk around the canyon?" I asked. "Just to get a lay of the land?"

"Sure, knock youself out," Church replied. "Take a gun in case the Reds, or Caboose, jump you." He motioned to the small armory as he left.

I put on the armor. For a minute, I stood there, looking at myself in the mirror. I was a Spartan! One of my lifelong dreams was to don on the armor of these legends and fight like hell with them. And now, through a fluke made by my own imagination, I was able to live that dream.

After several minutes, moving around in my armor since I couldn't get over the excitement, I decided to take the next step in this transition from reality into my fictionous world. Taking a look at the assorted weapons, I took my personal favorite weapon in all Halo games. The SRS.

The Sniper Rifle was light in my hands, and was relatively simple to operate. I was about to squeal in delight. I was living in a video game! Something that tons of people would die for.

Snatching a M90 Tactical Shotgun from the stash, I ran out of the base screaming like a mad man. I was in Valhalla, my favorite Halo 3 map.

"All right," I told myself, taking deep breaths to calm down. "First things first. Find Kara and get some training in."

Valhalla was peaceful, and birds were chirping, invisible to me, the player. I saw the crashed Phantom that Drai Sel'gath had been stowed away in all those months ago when I wrote that chapter.

Farther ahead, through the cave, was the crashed Pelican. I had no idea why it was even here, or as to why neither of the teams had salvaged the charred parts. However, I now had a clear view of Red Base.

I went prone, much like that in COD, and used my Sniper Rifle to spy, much like that in Red vs Blue. Nothing was really happening. I saw no movement whatsoever. That was boring. Then I saw the Warthog.

A smile came across my face as I put the fuel tank in my sights, and took a deep breath to steady the weapon. Seconds later, a loud crack echoed through out the canyon, and the Warthog was nothing more than a burning hull.

Almost instantly, two red-armored figures ran out with the weapons raised. I slowly began backing away, in fear that they might somehow see me. A third, somewhat smaller figure cautiously exited the base.

Kara was in pink armor, which I noticed was also her customized Halo 3 armor. Full, pink EVA armor, with her helmet in her hands. Apparently, judging from the BR55 on her back and the serious look on her face, she was accepting the reality of this fiction. Or she thought that she was going mentally insane. Then, a furry black face jumped out and into my view, staring straight into the scope. "Shade, what are you doing here?"

The cat simply meowed.

"Yeah, that's how I am," I replied, even though I had no idea what she had said. But I figured why not just say something. "Well, come on. We'll head back to our base and get some food," I told her, standing up and running back to the base.

You seem to be taking all of this so well so soon, human, the deity said. I pray you, what are thy means of that?

I didn't want to know about the sudden change in speech. "Well," I said. "I've had you stuck in my head for so long, I figured I'd get some where like here eventually, with you spouting all about these other worlds."

Thou hast a point.

"Of course I do. How could I not?"

I entered Blue base. "Yo Church, what's to eat?" I asked, heading into the main room where the cobalt non-Spartan was sitting, looking over his Sniper Rifle.  
"Find something. Caboose is probably hoarding some strawberries, and Tucker took all the beef. There might still be some shitty MRE's in the fridge, though," he replied, aiming through the scope down at the floor.

I rolled my eyes. "Really? Who keeps MREs in the fridge? That's just cold. And pointless."  
Church shrugged. "I really don't care. They taste like shit and they smell like shit. I don't eat them, so someone has to."

"I'm guessing that you want that to be me, right?"

"Yep."

"How did I know?"

Church shrugged. "Kid, you gotta eat the crap. That's a perk of being the new guy."

I shook my head. "Then I'm not really all that hungry. I'm going to go shooting at something. Any recommendations?"

"The Reds," he replied. "I'll give you twenty bucks for each one you hit."

"Maybe later," I told him. "I'll be back sometime before it gets dark."

"Kid, it don't get dark here. The sun always stays in the sky."

I nearly face-palmed. Of course it did. It made perfect sense. This was the Gateway, and since demons couldn't come out during the day or in the light, the sun was always in the sky to prevent them from escaping into the Prime World. But, they could find a loop hole.

  
I strolled out of the base again, with my cat following me. Heading over to the giant metal wall on the map, I began searching for the Brute Shot that was supposed to be around that area, but it was no where to be seen.

Sighing, I turned around and headed over to the Machine Gun Turrent that was propped up on the ledge, when a rock hit my helmet. It did no damage.  
"Hey Blue!" a voice, which I recognized as Sarge's, called out. Sarge was coming at me, flanked by Simmons and Kara. "We need to talk."

"'bout what?"

"It seems that some idiot with a Sniper blew up our Warthog," he said, snatching the rifle out of my hands. "And it appears that you're missing a shot. So that makes you guilty."

"Sir, having a shot missing from a rifle isn't enough evidence to convict him," Simmons said. "Maybe he was out hunting deer."

Sarge shrugged. "Well, were you hunting deer?" he asked me.

I shook my head slowly. There weren't deer here, were there?

"Then that means you're-"

The whole scene froze. Time stopped. Sarge was pointing an accusatory finger at me, but remained unmoving. Off in the distance, Caboose was frozen mid-jump.  
"Wait...what's going on?" I asked, hoping that someone, something heard me. "Hello?"

"I am behind thou."

I turned and saw her. A woman in flowing white robes, with long blond hair. "I am the one that's been in your head. I am the deity of the well of Siger."

I nodded. "I know. I made you."

"Foolish human. You think you know everything."

"I know all there is to know about you," I told her. "I was the one that made you, I was the one who stuck you in the well. Your name is [deleted]."

"Careful when you use that name. Anyone who knows it can ultimately bring destruction to the whole world, the Prime World and the Sidera. But, now for the real reason I came here to talk to you."

"And that is?"

[deleted] gestured to the Reds and Kara, frozen in time. "You have to kill them. Simple as that."

I shook my head. "Not going to happen. You forget that this is my story, and I can alter things to my will."

[deleted] broke out into laugther. "Kid, if that's how you feel, then you're playing God. You can't simply expect to alter things to the way you want them to be without people getting mad." Her eyes narrowed, and her glare became sinister. "You think that you're something special. You're not. You're just some half-ass kid who thinks that his own created world revolves around him. You'll soon find out that you're dead wrong."

I shrugged. "I can simply delete you from the story if I wanted."

"You'd have to go back and alter all the chapters just to do that," [deleted] said. "You'd have to erase my name and write me out. But, the true author of the story won't do that."

"What? I am the true author! I created you, and I can change things to my own likings, and you are powerless to stop me."

[deleted] chuckled. "You are deluded human. The true author knows very well that travelling between realms and worlds is impossible to all but the Forerunners. All this portal and tower shit is nonsense."

I took a step back. What is she trying to say? That someone else is writing my story? That's not possible. "Prove it."

"Fine," [deleted] replied. "It works out, since I would have to drag you into the wasteland of your own creation anyway. The True Author wants to get you there right away. He's getting to the good part of the story now."

"And that is?" I asked. "The attack on Guirel. Yes, I know. I wrote this whole story."

"Not you," said [deleted]. "But another."

And with that, there was a flash of light, and then came the overwhelming nothing.


	3. The Eve of War

_ Chapter Fourteen: The Eve of War _

** Siderian Control Tower, Guirel  
September 8 **

Luke stared at the city around them from the window of their suite, taking in the breathtaking sight. He had heard of a city that covered an entire planet back in his world, but he personally thought that this city was superior.

"Tucker, why can't we just stay here and get some rest?" he asked, looking at his reflection in the glass. "We traveled over two-hundred miles on foot just to get here, so perhaps we should take a rest for a day or two."

Tucker was in the bathroom, combing his hair down. "Because kid, you haven't seen a proper guy's night out. Besides, I need a wing man if I'm going to score it with some chicks." He adjusted his plaid polo shirt, and gave himself a finger gun the mirror paired with a wink as he went into the living room.

Turning from the window, Luke plopped down in a nearby chair and opened the magazine he was reading. "And...suppose I go, and you don't score with any chicks. What'll you do then?"

"There's always the type that'll do it for money."

Luke shook his head sadly. "Would you really stoop that low?"

Tucker shrugged. "I've done it thousands of times. It doesn't really have the same touch as when you're doing it with someone you love, but it's not that far off."

"That's nice," Luke replied, his voice carrying a wave of sarcasm. "But, I don't really have any plans of doing it anytime soon. I don't even know if there's a girl I like that even knows I exist."

"Oh, I've been there," Tucker said, jumping onto the couch and propping his feet on one side. He picked up the TV remote, and began to flip through channels. "But, a night out on the city will help you forget your girl problems. It worked for me."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Luke tossed the magazine onto the quaint, floating coffee table, and looked over at Tucker. "But I'm not you."

"You're just determined to have no fun whatsoever while we're in the biggest city in the history of mankind." Tucker stared at the magazine on the table with a muted look of surprise. "How come they have floating tables, but they still have paper magazines?"

"I doubt know," Luke answered. "But, it might have something to do with all the people getting hookers instead of working on new inventions."

"Dude, that's a lame reason," Tucker retorted, shutting off the TV and tossing the remote to the floating table. "The whole reason I'm here is because that robot guy told me I could find chicks and porn here."

Luke rolled his eyes and sighed. "You need some more goals in life. Find something worthwhile, instead of chicks, porn, and sex, and focus on that. You'd become a better person."

"Hey, I like the life I lead. I'm perfectly fine with it." The non-Spartan pointed to the sandy bag in the corner. "You need to get your droid fixed, so why not we head out now, drop it off, and come back when I wasted and with thirty chicks on each arm?"

"We both know that's not going to happen," Luke replied. "But I do need to get 3PO fixed, so let's just get this over with." He stood up, and hefted the sports bag over his shoulder. He had moved the mess of disassembled parts of the golden robot from three different bags over the course of the journey, and had ended up barely cramming all of them into this one.

Tucker instantly jumped to his feet. "I knew you would eventually break. But, are you really going out looking like that?" He gestured to Luke's tattered tunic, and shook his head. "You need to freshen up. Chicks won't go for a guy that looks like the south end of a north bound mule."

Luke mumbled curses to Tucker under his breath, and went into the bathroom. Several minutes later, he came out. He now was wearing a red flannel shirt, with a pair of blue jeans. His hair was combed back. 

Tucker simply chuckled. "Somehow, you nail both the farm boy and the space farm boy look." He held the door open for Luke. "You know, some gals dig that look."

"You know, I don't really care."

* * *

 

** Club Erra, Guirel  
September 8 **

The music was loud, playing some futuristic beat of an unknown era. Tons of people were dancing a new dance on the dance floor, completely oblivious to what was going on around them, which happened to be even more dancing.

Club Erra was one of the most popular clubs in the whole city, and received almost two-hundred thousand customers daily, which was pretty good for a building at the very edge of the city. The wall was less than ten feet from the back wall.

"This music is giving me a headache, the drink taste like womp rat, and the dancing makes them look like a dying kyrat dragon," Luke complained, swirling his drink around in the glass, inspecting it carefully. They were sitting at the bar, watching the mob of dancers.

"Oh come on, lighten up," Tucker ordered, downing his fifth shot of whiskey. "We're here to have us some fun, and we're going to have it." He slammed the shot glass to the table, and stood up. "Don't worry, I'm not intoxicated," he said, his speech slightly slurred. To prove it, he promptly passed out.

Luke sighed at the sight, and groaned. 

"What's up?" asked the bartender. She was roughly the same age as Luke, and about fifty-seven times as pretty. "Your friend getting on your nerves?"

"Yeah, it's really annoying," Luke answered. "He's a perv, he thinks he's God's gift to women, and he seems to find ways to persuade me into almost anything."

The bartender gave a sympathetic smile as she poured another patron's drink. "Yeah, I've been there. Ashlyn could talk a Hunter into adopting a kitten."

"Yeah, what's a-" Luke stopped when he realized that there was rippling in his drink. Something was shaking. "Um..."

"It's probably all the dancing," the bartender told him. "They once had to redo the floor after a single night of dancing. These people over do it a little bit."

Luke shrugged and looked around. "You know, this place doesn't make it seem as if I'm stranded in some desert world."

"Tell me about it," the bartender said, grabbing some bottles of beer from the fridge under the bar. "That's why I'm here. It's the closest thing to the place I came from."

"Where was that?"

"New Alexandria. You ever heard of it?"

Luke shook his head. "No, but that's because I'm from an entirely different world than the one you came from, probably."

The bartender's eyes shot up in interest. "Really? We rarely get that type in here. The President is picky on who he lets in." She took Luke's half-filled glass and refilled it. "On the house, if you tell me what this other world was like."

"Well, what I saw of it wasn't much," he admitted, staring into his drink as larger ripples formed in it. "Tatoonie wasn't much different from the Sidera. Just sand, sand, and more sand. A city here and there, but nothing more."

"Come on, it has to be more interesting than that," the bartender insisted, wiping up a spill from a drunken guy that was now passed out alongside Tucker. "What were the people like?"

"No different than you or I, just different species."

"Any Grunts, Jackals, Elites, or Brutes?"

"I don't know what those are..."

The bartender shrugged. "That's okay. Someday I might explain them to you."

Luke saw a chance. He somewhat liked the girl, and figured that it might be fun to rub the fact that he got a date in Tucker's drunken face. "How about over lunch?"

The bartender shyly smiled, and looked at him. "Is this a date?"

"Your words, not mine," Luke replied, leaning back in his chair and smirking at Tucker's sleeping form. He actually had a chance with her now.

"Saturday, at eight, here?" she asked.

"Why not?"

"Then it's a date," she agreed. She pulled out a few more beers and slid them down to some customers at the far side of the bar. "By the way, what's your name?"

That would be a valuable bit of info, wouldn't it? "I'm Luke, Luke Skywalker. You?"

"Sarah Weirsbe."

The whole building was suddenly wracked with an explosion. Bits of the ceiling fell to the ground, and all dancing immediately stopped. People looked up as they tried to figure out what was going on. 

Another explosion, this one occurred on the ceiling. More chunks fell, hitting and injuring some of the dancers. There was a giant hole in the roof. Luke knew exactly what was going down.

"Shit," he cursed, kicking Tucker's unconscious form. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake the hell up!"

"Wassup?" Tucker mumbled, slowly coming to. It took him a few seconds to come to his sense. "What happened here."

Luke jumped from his seat, his hand flying to his belt and pulling out his lightsaber hilt. "It's going down."

"What are you talking about? What's-"

Then first gunshot rang out. A civilian went down, his hand flying to his chest. The woman with him screamed, and then she was shot. Panic erupted, and people were screaming and running everything which way.

Tucker was instantly alert, his hand taking out the Energy Sword hilt. "So, it looks like we have to get the hell out of here now, huh? This is the big attack on the big city?"

"It's probably just starting up. We're about to see some real fireworks soon." Luke shot a glance over his shoulder to see if his new date was still there, and she wasn't. Everyone had either fled the scene, or had been hit by the bullets.

"Incoming!" Tucker shouting diving behind the bar. A hail of bullets flew in their direction, and Luke wasted no time in joining him. "It's Giovanni's power-armored troops," Tucker whispered.

"Great, we're screwed," Luke commented as splinters of wood from the bar rained over them. "They have guns, and we have swords."

There was a hesitant silence between the two of them as bullets flew overhead, threatening to rip them to shreds. After some panicked thinking, Tucker began patting the floor. "What floor are we on now?"

"Sixty-ninth."

After a quick laugh, Tucker had a plan. "Cut the floor. We'll drop down and go from there." He flicked his wrist, somehow managing to activate the dual blades of his Energy Sword in the small, cramped space.

He stabbed them into the ground, and pushed the blade forward. The floor was sliced with two parallel lines. With another gentle swing of the sword, Tucker made a tic-tac-toe board on the floor, and punched the center square. It fell to the floor on the level below, and left them a perfect escape hatch.

"Go!" Tucker ordered, grabbing Luke by his shirt collar and throwing him down the hole. The non-Spartan fell after him, making sure not to land on the teen. Moments after they hit the ground, the bar above them erupted into flames.

"When did they get flamethrowers?" Luke asked, watching as the flames spread down their hole and onto the ceiling of the current level. 

"Does that matter now?" Tucker retorted, hefting Luke to his feet and dragging him down the hall. "We need to get out of this building now." Smoke was filling the corridor much faster than it should've. He kicked a door open, and dashed into the room just as the ceiling fell away, flames consuming it all.

The room was obviously some other form of saloon, since there was also a bar and several tables with a dance floor and music playing. One whole wall was a massive window. 

There wasn't a single bottle of alcohol in the bar, replaced by sodas and the like. It was a bar for the younger generation, apparently. 

It was empty of any form of life, other than Luke and Tucker.

Bodies lay in pools of their own blood on the wooden dance floor, coating it in a sick crimson lake. Tucker couldn't contain his look of shock and horror. His mouth fell open, and he stood there looking from body to body. Most of them couldn't have been more than sixteen.

"What sick bastards would do this?"

In response to Luke's question, a red laser fired seemingly out of nowhere, nailing Tucker in the chest and going through. Tucker fell to his knees screaming in surprised pain, clutching the newly singed hole in his chest.

"Bulls eye," said one of the armored troops. The active camo faded, revealing the hulking figure in the dark steel power armor. In his grasp was a rifle unlike anything Luke had seen, the barrel had a trail of smoke rising from it.

Feeling a surge of rage, Luke activated the pale blue beam of his lightsaber, and stepped defensively in between the trooper, hiding his fear. He had no idea how to use the weapon in combat very much, aside from slicing the occasional tree. But, he wasn't about to let the enemy know that.

Fire crackled behind them, consuming the door and slowly stalking towards them. Most of the smoke was rising through the vents to the higher up levels, but there was still a large amount the room.

The trooper chuckled, and tossed his rifle up and caught it by the barrel. He used it as a cudgel, and smashed it into Luke's skull. The kid crumpled to the ground, instantly knocked out.

Tucker grunted in pain and anger as he weakly stood up, flicking his wrist and activating the Energy Sword. He took a weak step toward the trooper with a growl of rage, and another and another.

The trooper simply punched Tucker in the stomach when he was close enough, and picked him up by his neck. With a simple toss, he sent the non-Spartan fly over to the other side of the bar, landing a few feet from the giant glass window.

Gasping for breath, Tucker desperately racked his mind for some sort of plan. The smoke was filling the room quickly, and he heard alarms echoing all over the city. He pushed himself off the ground with one hand, the other clutching his wound, when saw the body of a security guard.

In the man's cold dead hands was a .44 magnum. Not the old west type, but what appeared to be a somewhat more modernistic version with an angular barrel, and state of the art sights.

With no other option, Tucker moved his bloody hand from his chest, and grabbed the steel handle of the gun. With a weak curse muttered, he stood up and pointed the gun at the trooper who was kneeling over Luke, tightening some handcuffs onto him. Before he could fire everything he could see suddenly became blurred. His eyes grew tired, and he felt like he was ready to fall asleep.

Shaking it off, he fired the gun. Squeezing the trigger as many times as he could, he heard four satisfying bangs before the first click. Despite the lack of ammo, he contined pulling the trigger to no effect.

There was a faded flash of red as the trooper fired his rifle. Tucker felt the pain in his chest again, and he barely registered that he had been shot again. the non-Spartan was on the verge of passing out.

The shot wasn't enough to knock him to the ground, even in his weakened state, but it did knock him back a few feet. His back touched the cold glass of the window behind him. He shook his head to clear the blurs, but all he saw was a large gray blob holding something that had a growing red blob.

There was another line of red that appeared in his vision, hitting him in the upper chest with far more force than the other shots. Tucker never felt the pain, as his body was now failing. He felt the glass behind him shatter as he was pushed into it, and out into the rain that was bombarding the city.

Tucker realized that he was dead, or soon to be. He was falling from the sixty-eight floor.

The trooper sighed a content sigh, glad that the pathetic hostile was out of the way. There was no way that he could survive the fall, if the lasers hadn't already killed him. With a grunt, the trooper hefted Luke onto his shoulder, and headed to the hole in the window.

"Objective secured," he said into his comms. "Awaiting evac."

"Copy."

A large helicopter flew up alongside the building, and a trooper inside placed a small metal ramp from the hatch to the edge of the window. The first trooper walked across it, casting a glance down to see if he could see the body, but he was too high up. Tossing Luke into the corner of the hatch, the trooper sat in a seat and knocked on the wall to signal the pilot.

The helicopter flew off into the night, heading back to their lines just outside the city.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Fifteen: To Infinity

Guirel Sewers  
September 8

“Come on,” the figure insisted. From what Ashley could see in the dark, damp sewers, the person was wearing some form of armor not unlike that of the Mjolnir. He had a heavy, tattered desert cloak over the sand-blasted armor, which covered most of his body.

“Where are we going?” Ashley asked, her hand tightly gripping the gunshot wound in her arm. Her armor's shields were burned out; apparently they had used something more than an ordinary plasma shot on her. She grunted as she applied more pressure on the wound.

The person simply looked back. “To my house. I live here.”

Ashley looked around and groaned. “You live in the sewers?”

“Hey, don't insult my house until you've seen it,” the person protested. “And trust me, Ashley, You will be surprised.”

“How do you know my-”

“Name? It's simple, really. I know you're creator.”

Ashley stopped running. “Wait, are you talking about God?”

The person shook his head. “Well, I guess, through a series of events it could be taken like that, although it shouldn't, but I'm talking about SpartaLazor.”

“Yeah,” Ashley said, continuing after him. “That doesn't really help. And that sounds like a screen name for some teenager video gamer.”

The person snapped his fingers. “Bingo. You literally just hit it almost spot on.” He walked over to a wall, where a misplaced keypad was. After typing in a complex code consisting of countless numbers and letters, a hidden door slid open, revealing a smaller room. He entered, and motioned for her to enter.

“Is this your house?” the Spartan asked out of sarcasm, clutching her injured arm. “It seems a little too small.”

The person shook his head, and pressed a button on the opposite wall. The door slid shut, and another opens behind them. Humorously on the wall above the door is a sign which reads; 'When one door shuts, another opens.'

“Funny,” Ashley said, nodding to the sign. 

“Yeah, I though that was quite clever.” He led her down a long corridor, and at the end of the hall, was yet another door. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, revealing a large suite. Despite the fact that it was in the sewers, it looked as if it should be on a penthouse. There were screens lining the walls, each one showing a different part of the desert. Computers lined the walls just below the screens, and there was a strange device in one corner, with a large seal crate emblemed with the UNSC logo.

“This is my house,” he said, removing his helmet and setting it on a nearby table. He did the same for the heavy cloak. “Now, take off your armor,” he ordered, heading to a room off to the side.

“Why?” Ashley asked. “I'm not going to take off my clothes in front of some strange guy, and keep in mind that I'm a Spartan. I can kill you with one good hand.”

“I never forgot,” he replied. “But I'm not asking you to strip naked. I need to fix that wound don't I?”

Ashley figured he had a point, and carefully removed the armor on her arm, wincing as she brushed against the bullet hole. She left the rest of her armor on, and calmly waited as he returned with a small medical kit. “By the way, can I ask who you are?”

“I can't tell you my real name,” he replied, pulling out a knife and cutting the undersuit to have access to the wound. “But I go by Shadowblazex22.”

“Once again, that sounds like some screen name or something.”

“It is. I'm here on a special assignment,” Shadow explained, grabbing a pair of tweezers. “This is going to hurt,” he told her.

Ashley gritted her teeth, and bit back the urge to scream as he plunged the cold metal into her arm, and pulled the bullet out a moment later. The bloody round was tossed to the floor, and Shadow began applying an antibiotic. “What's the assignment?” Ashley asked, when the thudding pain died.

“Well, I'm here to track down another agent of my secret organization,” he told her. “He's broken way too many of the rules, and we need to stop him before he causes an inter-world crisis.”

“You after Giovanni too?” Ashley asked, wrapping the white cloth bandage around her arm. “That's nice. He's an ass.”

Shadow shook his head, and tossed the medical kit onto the table with his helmet and cloak. “No, Giovanni can't even do anything without the guy I'm after. He's the one that gave Giovanni his powers.”

“Wait, so there's someone out there stronger than Giovanni?” Ashley asked, in slight awe. “But Giovanni is a freakin' god. He can't be outmatched. Can he?”

“One person can easily kick his butt, and it's the one I'm after,” Shadow told her. “Thing is, I'm in his world, playing by my own rules. That's kinda fun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ashley, this might be hard for you to take, but you're the simple creation of a teenager in the Prime World. He made you for a story, and then adapted you for another,” Shadowblazex22 said. "We are in the world the he invented, even if it's not where we're supposed to be."

"So this kid you're talking about, he's the one I need to find to bring down Giovanni. We have to find him."

That's why I'm here. I need your help. I'm hunting down SpartaLazor for his actions against the FF, and you're my best shot at getting him.”

Ashley blinked in confusion. “I'm going to need more info than that,” she said. “I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about.”

Shadow sighed. "It's really not all that hard to understand. Your creator is breaking the Laws of the FF, and we need to stop him."

"Um...okay. I think I'm following this," Ashley lied, her mind completely screwing itself over trying to comprehend. "But can you be a little more specific?"

Shadow sighed as he rubbed his head, sensing her lie. "This might be a little confusing, but more understandable than what I just said above. There is the Sidera, where we are. There is a Prime World, with two divisions. The Prime World generates all other worlds, including that of the Sidera. You following this so far?"

Ashley nodded. "There's just one thing. Two divisions of the prime world?"

"That's true, but I'm not authorized to talk to you about that. Rules are rules, Ash. I can't break them."

"Why not?" Ashley asked, looking at her ruined undersuit arm. "What harm can it be? I'm not going to tell anyone."

Chuckling, Shadowblazex22 went over to a computer and began to pull up the other the screens. "You might not know it, but this whole conversation is being read by hundreds, if not thousands of people."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you that either. I even went over my boundaries by simply mentioning that." With a few more clicks, he brought up another screen, which had an aerial view of Guirel on it. He pointed to several marked red dots that varied in size, and some appeared to be on the ground while others in the air. 

"The larger dots are the helicopters out hunting for you," Shadow explained, pointing them out. "The smaller ones are the Warthogs, and the even smaller ones are individual military squads." He tapped a few buttons, and a picture of Ashley appeared in the corner of the map.

It was from the pursuit, and she was turning and firing the shotgun as she ran. There was some writing that she couldn't translate under it, and a number below it. "What does it say?"

Shadow let out a low whistle. "It's just the standard alert, putting the troops on a manhunt for you. Apparently, there's already a bounty on your head. 28 million."

"Wow..."

"That's enough to build a third of a skyscraper in the middle of the city," Shadow informed her. "That's easily a hundred times the amount of money in the Sidera, save for Guirel and that one other city."

Ashley walked over and peered down at the screen. "It hasn't even been fifteen minutes since the chase ended."

"Well, there's some good news and bad news," Shadow said, sitting down in an expensive office chair. "The bad news; they have this picture all over the city, so if you walked out, you would literally be swarmed by every single person after the bounty."

The Spartan sighed, realizing that he was right. "And the good news?"

"The good new; they don't have your face in the picture. If you were to go out in civilian clothes, then there's a good chance that you can get to where you're friends are."

"Will that work?" Ashley was hesitant. The guards at the gate had seen her unhelmeted face, so it could only be matter of time before they made it public. "What if something goes wrong?"

"You're thinking about the gate guards, right?" Shadow asked, surprising her. "That could prove to be a problem." He rubbed the back of his neck. "There is one thing that I could do, but not only will it break several rules of the FF, but it will also involve a highly complicated system of altering a story that is not my own."

"What is it? I'll do it."

"Okay, then." Shadow rolled his chair over to a separate table, where a single laptop sat by itself. "I'll have to rip a portal open to your world."

"Wait? You're sending me home?" Ashley suddenly felt a wave of excitement, followed by a storm of anxiety. Last time she had been there, Reach had fallen. There was no telling what shape humanity was in.

Her heart suddenly sank when Shadow continued. "Well, not really you're world. Simply a deviation of it. It's not the original world. In fact, the world that you came from wasn't the original. Simply another deviant."

"And you know that how? I completely beg to differ."

"Go ahead," Shadow encouraged. "But I've read the story."

"Um..."

Shadowblazex22 typed a series of commands into the laptop, and then clicked the enter key. "I just broke Article 37-B, and Protocol 23-E4," he muttered as a portal suddenly ripped itself into existance in the middle of the room. "The only reason that I have access to this portal is because I was investigating the theft of another keystone. Giovanni has six now, I believe."

"Shit, not much time then." Ashley gathered up the arm pieces of her armor, and gritted her teeth as she put them on. "What am I looking for?"

"To put it as simple as possible, find the Spartan Deck, and see if you can nab a new set of armor. Don't make it anything close to what you have on now. It's too well known around in the public."

"So, they'll be okay with me simply walking in and taking a whole set of Mjolnir?"

"Roland, the AI, owes me a favor," Shadow said. "Although, I'm still wondering if giving his override code to Dr. Halsey was a good idea... Anyway, just tell him I sent you, and it should be good."

Ashley finished attaching the last piece of her armor, and looked up at him. "You know Halsey? I once escorted-"

"-an AI data chip to the Pillar of Autumn, alongside of Noble Six and Emile, and then you left them to escape the planet. I know. I've played the game and read the story."

"Sometime, can you tell me what that even means?"

"Sure, but later. Just get the armor and get back here."

"Fine." Ashley took one deep breath for no reason. Her excitement was reaching it's boiling point. She was going home. Or to something similar to it.

She stepped through the portal...

UNSC Infinity  
October 22nd, 2557

...and she exited inside a small quartering room. Taking a quick glance around, she realized that it was of UNSC standards, and the golden eagle was on the corner of every blanket on the cots that filled the room.

Fortunately, the room was empty. It would've been awkward to suddenly appear in a room filled with people. But, she still had one problem. 

"Where the hell is the Spartan Deck?" 

Spartans as she knew usually had a small corner room in the ship, usually next to the armory. She had never heard of them actually having their own deck.

Almost instantly, a yellow AI appeared on the pedestal in the middle of the room. "Um...can I ask a few questions, please?" asked the AI, dressed in an old WWII flight-suit. "Where did you come from? Why is your armor outdated? Why did you simply appear out of nowhere?" He seemed a little on edge.

"Um...are you Roland?"

"I am."

"Then Shadowblazex22 sent me here. He wanted me to get a new suit of armor."

Roland cursed under his virtual breath. "Of all the things he ask for, he sticks me with having to give away one of the most expensive pieces of equipment on the whole ship. Palmer's going to have a cow over this."

A waypoint appeared on Ashley's HUD. "Follow the blue diamond," Roland ordered. "It'll lead to the Spartan Deck." There was a pause, and Ashley hesitantly began to follow it's path. "Are you really from a different world? That's pretty mindboggling."

"Yeah, my head is still mentally screwed up. I pretty much just gave up on the whole understanding part, and went with the flow," Ashley replied, feeling the glares of the other humans that she passed in the corridors. "Something tells me I'm the oddball here."

"Coincidentally, that's the game being playing the War Games," Roland suddenly said. "And yes, you are the oddball. People aren't used to seeing Spartan's walking around in outdated armor. And then there's that ancient shotgun on your back.”

"Great, what year is it?" Ashley asked. "I want to know whether Reach has fallen yet, or if you even know about that." She had no idea what was different in this world, and what was the same as her world.

"Reach fell five years ago. It's Thursday, October 22, 2557 at 0341 hours."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"So what happened since then?"

"Long story short, there was Halo, there was the Flood, there was the Covenant attack on Earth, there was the assassination of a Covenant Prophet, there was the Battle of the Ark, and then that kind leads to here."

"Gee, I wish I understood half of that."

"Well, it'd take too long to explain," Roland told her. "But, if you want to go on a slight detour later, you can meet the Spartan that literally saved humanity single-handed."

Ashley raised her eyebrows. "Really? II or III?"

"II. John-117 is on board, in a debriefing with Captain Del Rio and Commander Lasky."

"Tempting." There was something on her mind that had been bugging her for a long time. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to Noble Team, would you?"

"The Spartan Fireteam on Reach?" Roland asked. "Sure. They're all dead."

Ashley sighed, but kept walking. She knew that was coming. Six and Emile were dead. There was nothing she could do about it. "All of them?"

"Well, Jun-A266 lived for a little while afterward, but he was killed during First Strike."

"I don't know what that is, but I'll save it for later. What happened to Noble Six?"

"He died shortly af-after giving me to Captain Ke-Keyes," chimed in a new voice. It was female, distorted, and sounded like a dying computer. 

Roland sighed. "Cortana, can you stop butting into everything I do? I know that you're a better model AI, but there's no need to be so nosy. You don't have the shipboard AI authorization on this ship, since you just came out of nowhere. And besides, it's bad for your rampancy."

"Oh, please," Cortana replied, somewhat snobbishly. All of the interference was gone from her voice. "How could it possibly do that? Rampancy is caused by-"

"Can the two of you shut up?" Ashley asked, avoiding two ODSTs that were giving her an awkward glance. "I like peace and quiet."

There were a few minutes of silence, and Ashley continued toward her destination with an unusual unease. Everything was so familiar, but so new here. The ODST's armor was different, seemingly improved from what she remembered seeing on Reach. Her armor was constantly referred to as outdated. 

The Spartan Deck was massive. Countless rows of individual areas for individual Spartans to change or modify their armor. Strange machines stood there ready to attach and remove the armor from the Spartans.

"Wow, this is impressive," Ashley commented, watching a group of Spartans in their undersuits running on treadmills. 

Another one that stood by in full white armor, with her helmet tucked under her arm. Her reddish brunette hair was tied back, and there was a look of confusion on her face. "Who are you?"

"Just someone going to get updated armor, that's all," Ashley replied, walking past her. "It's nothing you need to worry about." She noticed that the armor she wore was nothing like what she had. It seemed to be majorly upgraded, with a new and more fitting look. There were more pieces, to allow better movement.

The other Spartan followed after her, matching her pace in seconds. "Do you have the authorization to acquire this armor?"

"She does, Commander Palmer," Roland answered. "Just let her get her armor, and then she'll be on her way."

"To where?" Palmer asked. "I haven't approved any Spartan deployments yet, and there's been no request to leave." 

"...yeah," Roland muttered, before whispering to Ashley; "You're on your own with this one."

Ashley rolled her eyes. Big help the AI was. But fortunately, some random guy came to her rescue.

“Hey, don't hassle her, Palmer,” the Spartan said. He was decked out in his armor, light blue Gen II Recon armor with a red visor. “You know the rule. All Spartan's are to be upgraded to Generation II armor as soon as they set foot on board.”

Palmer turned and glared at the Spartan. “I know that, Ginger. But what I want to know is how she managed to stay in that armor for so long. We haven't picked up anyone new it three months.”

“With all due respect,” Ashley said. She might as well tell the truth. No one would believe her, but hey, she'd get to have a little bit of fun. “I came here through a portal that leads to some giant desert that's completely screwed up.”

Palmer turned back around with a look of agitation plastered to her face. “That's highly amusing,” she said, her tone deadly. “But, unfortunately, Ginger is right. You'll have to take Gen II armor. It's the rules.” She sighed, and looked back to a machine built for removing Spartan's armor. “Make it fast, and then, I don't want to see you around for a while.”

She walked on, pausing for a second. “And what the hell is that thing on your back? It's got to be at least five-hundred years old. Did you rob a museum or something?”

Ashley shrugged, just glad that Palmer was leaving. But that shotgun was her favorite weapon. Sure, it was old. But she wasn't fighting the Covenant, at least not much anymore. The gun had a nice feel, and she liked having to rely on the iron sights rather than the automatic linkup with the HUD.  
“You want a hand with that armor?” asked the Spartan referred to as Ginger. “I can help if you want.”

Ashley shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Ginger eagerly stuck his hand out to her. “Name's Ethan Torrence. But everyone call's me Ginger. It's my call sign.” Not waiting for her to shake his hand, he removed his helmet, revealing a rather young face, with bright red hair adorning the top. “You can see why.”

“Yeah.” Ashley tried to act nice. She just wanted to get the armor and get back out of here. “So what's been happening on the ship recently?” she asked, trying to make casual conversation. She went over to the terminal in front of the armor machine, and began flipping through the selections.

“Well, the eggheads brought up a Forerunner artifact yesterday, so that's brought up a lot of conversation. Then there's the War Games Tournament, and then the return of the Master Chief,” replied Ginger, setting his helmet on some crates. “Other than that, there's really nothing than that.”

“Mm hm,” said Ashley, still going through the armor variants. Some looked vaguely familiar, but others were new and some even looked stupid. What Spartan in their right mind would want a giant horn on their helmet? The Soldier variant looked bad, so did the Aviator. “Are there any good variants here?”

Ginger shrugged. “Depends on what you like.”

“I prefer something classical. This new stuff just isn't calling my name.”

“I think I know what you want,” the Spartan said. “Try the Mark VI. It's a remodeled form of what the older Spartan II's wore. And it comes in several colors.”

With a heavy sigh, Ashley realized that it was her only chance to get something she could work with. “I'll take purple.”

“Hey, this actually feels nice,” Ashley commented, moving around in her new armor. The purple Mark VI was more conformed to her body, allowing some movement once impossible in her old armor. She looked down at the orange Air Assault, feeling a small sentimental tug at it. That armor had seen her through more fights than she could remember, and she could name where she got each scratch and dent.

Ginger nodded. “It's far better than the older models. More armor pieces allow for more movement, and-”

The lights went off all over the Spartan deck, on light at a time. The main lights went out first, and smaller ones followed afterward. Several beams lit up as Spartans activated the flashlights on their helmets and guns. Ginger turned on the light on his DMR. “Power failure? That can't be right...”

Ashley reached over and grabbed her shotgun. There was something about this darkness. And omnious feeling of hate, anger, revenge, death. She flicked on her helmet lights. A voice echoed in her head.

Darkness claims all.  
The light has taken its fall.  
The gates of hell have opened, I tell thee.  
The Demons have been set free.


	5. Chapter 5

**MetLife Stadium, USA, Prime World  
February 2,** **2014**

“Oh come on, G,” Miller said, holding the phone to his ear while holding his tub of popcorn to his chest. “Give me a break. It's all business with you. Keep in mind that demons don't even come out at night. Or unless it's dark, and neither apply here.”

 

“ _Just where the hell are you?”_ asked the person on the other end. _“What could possibly tear you from your research?”_

 

Miller smiled, finding surprise in the fact that he could hear of the roaring crowds. “The Superbowl, for one. Broncos vs Seahawks.”

 

There was an agitated sigh. _“Sports? Really brother? Sports? I find those to be completely redundant, at least football. Where's the fun in knowing there's a whole bunch of giant sweaty guys ready to take you to the ground?”_

 

Agent Miller chuckled, and shook his head. “That's the fun. People love contact sports.”

 

“ _Perhaps, but that's only one of the aspects that I dislike about football. I also fail to understand why the players can earn millions by playing a game, while other people earn less when they do actual work.”_

 

“Oh come on, they have to go through training and practices and all that,” replied, Miller, defending his favorite sport. “I think they make a fine living.”

 

“ _Maybe so, but millions still seem to be a quite large sum. Perhaps they should instead make thousands? They could live off of that, right?”_

 

“I guess,” answered Miller. “But you yourself make millions everyday. Why are you complaining?”

 

“ _There is a vast difference between American dollars and Siderian ktyre, James.”_

 

Miller shrugged. “Like I would know what that is. I've only heard stories of that place. I've never actually been there, like you.”

 

“ _A ktyre is worth about $2.34 in American dollars. Now, once that abhorred game has ended, get back to your research.”_

 

“Fine.” Miller took the liberty of hanging up first, simply because he liked to have the last word in every conversation that he had. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and turned his attention back to the game that was about to occur. They were mere minutes from the kick off.

 

Both teams took the field, and then the onslaught began. Players running left and right, eager to get their hands on the ball and score that touchdown. Even after the shocking first play, no one seemed discouraged.

The game was intense. Fans cheered, screamed, and carried on all through out the course of the game. Miller simply stayed in his seat, calmly watching the action. His favorite team wasn't there, but he didn't care. The Superbowl was still one of the best football games of all time. And he was at it.

 

Finally, they came to halftime. As the crews were prepping the field for the show, Miller figured that it would be smart to go to the bathroom now, so he wouldn't miss any of the good things. He pushed his way through the crowd, tossing his empty popcorn bowl in a trash can on his way out.

 

At first, he found that the lack of people to be strange. The only people that he did see made his nervous. They were wearing business suits. Miller tried to ignore them, but one of them approached him. “Are you James Miller, working with the FBI?”

 

“Perhaps. Who's asking?”

 

“No one in particular,” the person replied. “However, we do know that you have some knowledge of this place know as the Sidera, correct?”

 

That sent up several red flags in Miller's mind. “How did you know?”

 

“We know things. What do you know of this author SpartaLazor?”

  
“I've heard my brother mention him a few times, but that's it.” It was a lie. He knew far more about the author than he should. One might think that Miller was giving these strangers info too easily, but he had another plan. His silenced 9mm pistol in his coat pocket, for one.

 

Miller suddenly pulled the pistol from his pocket, but before he could pull of the shot he felt a sharp shooting pain in his hand, and drop his pistol. Blood was pour from the hole in his hand.

 

One of them men in back had a smoking pistol of a strange variant. The fact that it made no noise at all was amazing.

 

The man in front of Miller punched the agent in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground, with blood pouring from his nose. Seconds later, he heard the click of a gun.

 

Miller saw the .44 magnum pointed at his head. “Now, you didn't expect to get out of this that easily, did you? I'm sorry to disappoint you.” He glared down at Miller. “Now tells all you know, or the whole world will be at risk.”

 

“I fail to see how some damned kid can put the whole world at risk, just by writing a story,” Miller replied, wiping some of the blood away with his sleeve.

 

“You're an expert on him, why don't you tells us? He knows of the demons doesn't he? That's why you're tracking him down.”

 

Miller chuckled, but remained silent. How the hell did they know all of this?

 

“We don't have time for your games. The closer that your brother gets to reaching the Prime World, the less time we have.”

 

“What does he have to do with this?”

 

“It's one thing to cross over into other created worlds, simply write a few words, think the thought, whatever. But crossing over to the Prime World takes an excessive amount of dark matter. Demons are made of dark matter, and thus there will be an influx of demons. They will have enough in numbers to take over the whole world, cascade it into darkness. We have to stop him.”

 

“Ha. Like I'll help you. Kill me if you need to. I don't really care.”

 

The gunshot was silent.

 


End file.
